Odessea
by Endless Sorrow
Summary: Death was only the first step to absolution. Norrington's journey to the underworld and beyond. A Norrington centric fic. [Chapter 3: Virgil]
1. Chapter 1: Charon

**Odessea**  
_(The Odyssey)_

**Chapter 1: Charon  
**

It's a small world, Norrington mused. Such a small world.

For all the ambition that he sacrificed and betrayed others for, it simply whistled away upon his death.

Cutler Beckett was seated in a longboat, floating alongside him. His gaze was in a perpetual state of shock, staring straight ahead, heedless of his surroundings. Mercer was also visible in the gloom, and he noticed a good number of men that served under him before he defected to the other side.

The irony was painfully evident. Everyone was equal when they died.

A single oil lamp was his only light source, and he did not know where he was headed. Beyond just lay an endless shroud of mist and a constant dark sky. He floated in the longboat for what seemed like an eternity, his mind blank and unthinking, and only until Beckett and the other men in bluecoats floated along did he manage to regain some of his consciousness.

It was not to say that Norrington had completely gathered his thoughts together. He was struggling to remember what had happened in the final thresholds of his life – _did it happen, or did it not?_ – and all that occurred even before that... his double crossing, his defection, his promotion, his ruin...

He was so engulfed in his thoughts that he did not hear his name being called.

William Turner had attempted to anchor the Flying Dutchman as close to Norrington's boat as possible. After a good amount of shouting aided by his crewmen, Will, deciding that the former Commodore must have been struck deaf by sheer stupidity, sighed in exasperation, and proceeded to drop into the longboat.

_Thump._

The longboat rocked, and Norrington looked up in alarm.

"Mr. Turner!"

Will tilted his head briefly in response. "Commodore."

"... This is the underworld, is it not?"

Will nodded and said nothing. It was much better for the dead to come to their own conclusions rather than have one forced upon them, with the little experience he had gained with talking to them so far.

"Then I must be dead," Norrington muttered to himself. As his mind began to piece itself together, he suddenly realized-

"Are you dead, Mr. Turner?" Almost immediately, his thoughts turned towards Elizabeth, and he began to panic. _She would be devastated if Turner is dead, oh God, she won't live with herself if she-_

"No."

There was a pause. Norrington was clearly confused.

"I'm cursed, Norrington. Cursed to sail these seas for ten years, cursed to ferry souls to the other side."

Norrington felt a sudden wave of incredible sympathy for his rival. He could see how much pain that would have wrought Elizabeth, the anguish beneath Will's solemn face... What was worse than unrequited love, Norrington sadly reflected, was the separation of lovers. Nevertheless, Norrington still could not shake off the disdain he had for those without order. It was built into him, and he could never quite understand... which was perhaps his downfall, he argued with himself. _Pirates, _he thought – a little too contemptuously, perhaps – but he said nothing.

"I-" Will interrupted the silence. "My father – I just... My father killed you. He didn't know what he was doing. The Dutchman – and there was this bet and he - I'm sorry." Will flatly stated, knowing that Norrington would not accept his apology.

"Your bandanna looks just as ghastly as that feathered hat you wore at Port Royal."

It was now Will's turn to look confused. "What?"

"For goodness' sake, Mr. Turner, my death was delivered to me long before your father had anything to do with it." Norrington's annoyance moved into one of quiet contemplation. "My death was by my own hand."

The number of longboats and souls were gradually increasing. There was an air of tension between the two men, and Norrington had thought he felt it; neither quite forgiving the sins they laid upon each other.

"... Work for me."

Norrington looked up in surprise. Will had extended a hand towards him. It was an offer of opportunity, an offer of a second chance at life.

"Sail under my command," Will said. "Be my first mate. In ten years we can go back to where we were... the land of the living. You can start anew."

Norrington looked amused. "Are you that afraid of death, Mr. Turner? I have accepted my death, completely and utterly. There is no longer any purpose for me."

"There is Elizabeth."

Trust Will to dangle the carrot in front of the unsuspecting hare. _What do you mean to accomplish with this, Mr. Turner? _he thought. However, all Norrington did was smile. "Elizabeth is extraordinarily content to be with you," he said politely. "I play no part in her life."

Will promptly leaned forward and hit Norrington's head. The blow tipped off his hat and fell into the water.

"Are you always this self absorbed, Norrington?" Will snapped. "This isn't about what she means to you."

Norrington was silent. He turned away, focusing on his hat that had begun to sink.

"She cares for you. Any fool can see that." Will took off his bandanna and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "She's lost everyone in this battle..." This time, Will made no attempt to conceal his dejection. He shifted his gaze, choosing to look at the longboats behind the Dutchman. Norrington stayed respectfully silent, with both men refusing to look at each other.

"Work for me," Will repeated.

It was only then Norrington noticed the scar on Will's chest.

_Entwined, but never joined..._

"Do you believe in destiny, Mr. Turner?"

"... Very much so."

"After all that we've been through, we've never been on the same side. Our destinies seem to have been constantly in conflict, fighting over one thing or another."

"And do you want it to end this way?" Will asked. "The two of us, forever at odds?"

He was pushing Will away, Norrington realized, just as he did to Elizabeth, when she offered him a chance to escape. _Would one never learn from his mistakes?_ Norrington thought. An accumulation of irony, oversights and blindness paved the way to his destiny, and he was determined to remedy it on his own. Death was only the first step to absolution, and if he did find a way to reach up to the land above, then so be it. He could not face the world until he had redeemed himself from the sins he had wrought.

"I will chart my own path, Mr. Turner. Besides," Norrington smiled ruefully upon reflection of his own faults, "I was never one to serve under another."

Will wanted to argue with him, but he remained silent. There was no disagreement of words with Norrington; he would never sway, not unless he was under the influence of someone he loved. Will chose not to express his thoughts directly, and for a fleeting moment he knew Norrington must have had done the same. He realized how estranged they were from each other, their persons bound only by a single strand: Elizabeth.

"Have you ever thought why Elizabeth never chose you?"

"I would imagine it to be a certain personality that I lacked... seeing as she much prefers the life of a pirate."

Will sighed. Norrington's single-minded attitude often got the worse of his character. He never could _understand_ the consequences that were given to him, but once he realized that it was beyond his control, he would accept it mindlessly. "No, Norrington. You were always thinking about yourself. You ambition drove everyone away, thinking it was a noble sacrifice on your part."

"My ambition may have gotten the worst of me, but I never used it to directly harm Elizabeth." Norrington's words grew biting; a weak attempt in hiding his anger on such quick judgment of his character.

"Do you remember the first time you proposed to her?" Will shot back.

"Certainly."

"What did you say?"

Norrington racked his head. The memories were still broken, sifting in a long river... "_This promotion throws into sharp relief-_"

He promptly stopped himself. Norrington realized his error, and found he knew less of himself than before.

"Well," Will continued, turning away from Norrington, and prepared to board the Dutchman. "If you choose your own path, the lord of the dead can help you on your journey."

"The lord of the dead," Norrington was greatly bemused by the title. "I would think being the lord of the dead would be to _govern_ the dead, not bring them back to life."

"He can be... persuaded."

"How so?"

Will briefly turned back, a forlorn smile upon his lips. "You'll see."

Norrington had not noticed the shimmer of movement beneath Will's chest. "How will I find this... lord of the dead?"

Will had already materialized aboard the Dutchman, and was climbing on the rope ladder. He swung around and faced Norrington for the last time.

"I will lead you to him."

* * *

**End notes: **It was extremely difficult writing action sequences in an environment where nothing was essentially happening, and I've never really had a gauge for Will's character... So my apologies if he's saying things that he shouldn't be saying. I'm also looking for a beta reader, and I'm soliciting opinions more than anything else. I do ask for very detailed opinions, so do email me if you're interested. 

Also, still promoting The Cove, a POTC fanfic archive. Link's in my profile!


	2. Chapter 2: Hades

**Odessea**  
_(The Odyssey)_

**Chapter 2: Hades**

It was not how he expected it to be at all.

Norrington – like any other civilized man – had expected the underworld to be one of two things: dark and gloomy or red-hot and burning. For the former, it would have been a series of caves, one forever lost in its maze, forever echoing the wails of those who refused to accept their fate. For the latter, it would have been pit after pit of lava, one condemned to burn eternally in fire, surrounded by piercing screams that could strike compassion in even the coldest man.

_Apparently not,_ Norrington thought to himself, as he surveyed the chaos before him.

Taverns littered the cobblestone streets, the large fires within the building emanating enough light that the oil lamps outside were almost unnecessary. Fights were happening left and right, with gunshots, breaking bottles and swear words reaching his ears. A stale miasma of ale and rum permeated the air, constantly lingering under the dark night sky. Windows were shattered on a continuous basis, and it became second nature to duck whenever you felt someone's breath on your shoulder.

It reminded him a little of Tortuga, actually.

Beckett had docked around the same time as Norrington did, and he had wandered off, rather mindlessly. Just as he did when the _Endeavour _sang its swan song, Beckett managed to avoid every catastrophe that was thrown his way while walking down the streets of this Tortuga-like world. _Must be a talent that he has, _Norrington amused himself.

This distraction was suddenly cut short when he felt someone pulling off his wig. Norrington was not fast enough to retrieve it in time, and the offending man began to dance victoriously from a safe distance from him, parading the wig on his head.

The man (and wig) was promptly blown into pieces by a rouge cannonball.

_Well, that's unfortunate_. The place made him extremely uncomfortable. He was a man for attention to order, detail and rules. The underworld was hardly any of these things, and Norrington was out of his element. He recalled - with great difficulty, as his memory was not fully restored – that in Tortuga, he had to resort to becoming drunk on a near-daily basis in order to function in this chaotic world.

He quickly focused on his current purpose: to find the lord of the dead. Perhaps resurrection wouldn't be so bad after all, compared to living eternally in a world where one's head could get shot off every five minutes and could still be alive. Norrington headed towards a man sitting on a barrel, looking less frenzied than the rest of his uncontrollable peers.

"Excuse me, sir-"

"Look for the door that isn't open, mate," the man interrupted.

Norrington instinctively turned away to look at this previous oversight. Indeed, the doors in every building were open. People were entering it, people were thrown out of it... He had assumed that was how it always was.

"How did you know-"

"In this world, no one talks to one another unless it's for something that he wants. And you, sir," the man on the barrel ran a sharp eye up and down Norrington's attire, "I doubt you're looking for rum and women."

"Well, thank you," Norrington said haltingly, rather taken aback at this quick observation. He turned away and proceeded down one of the many paths laid before him. The man on the barrel burped in response, as a little white crab emerged from the toe of his worn boot.

* * *

The doors opened for him, and Norrington could not believe his eyes.

It was a large, grey room, with a single figure sitting behind a desk that was coated with ink stains and moss. It was not the room that shocked Norrington, but the person before him. The man did not look up from the desk, his writing hand constantly at work, but motioned for Norrington to come forward. Norrington swiftly crossed the threshold.

"Have you noticed, Norrington," Governor Weatherby Swann said, "that one needs to come full circle before getting resurrected?"

"I'm not looking for resurrection, Governor, but rather the hope of redemption."

Governor Swann stopped writing and looked up at Norrington, sighing at his naiveté. Norrington realized how old Elizabeth's father had become. He was much thinner, and wrinkles outlined his tired face.

"Redemption seems like such a subjective thing," the Governor said. "A betrayal to your friends, a relief for others... and then you're torn apart by these two forces. No one can ever find redemption and then find peace."

"Even so, I will not go back until I have forgiven myself, even when others have not forgiven me," Norrington pointedly replied, and quickly looked away.

In the sudden silence, Governor Swann carefully studied Norrington's face, and his eyes frowned in puzzlement. He did not venture to ask further; if Norrington chose to divulge, he would have done so, the direct, uncompromising man that he was. Nevertheless, he knew it must have been something to do with Elizabeth, for he had laid his greatest sins upon her.

"Well, then," Governor Swann interjected. "Seeking closure. A full circle."

"You mean facing the person who killed you."

"Certainly. Who was it that killed you?"

"... William Turner's father."

Governor Swann shook his head. "You're thinking of the _act_ of killing, Norrington. Bill Turner was only the final scene in your story. What was it that ruined you? What was it that set events in motion, that resulted in your need to gain lost glory, and finally led you to getting Davy Jones's heart?"

Norrington's mind reeled as he recalled the events backwards - his death, his betrayal, his ruin, the run in with the hurricane-

"The hurricane."

"And that is what you must seek."

"You want me to seek a hurricane," Norrington stated, rather incredulously.

"Not 'a hurricane', James," Governor Swann patiently said. "The god who controls the air. Calypso has made herself rather well known to the sailors, but she is not the only one that exists in this world."

Norrington felt a second bout of irony, as he looked at the man who was now the king of the underworld.

"Quite obviously."

Governor Swann chuckled at Norrington's sarcasm, and motioned towards an ornately decorated door to his left. "Well then," he breathed, almost as if the laugh unburdened a load off his back, "You will need a guide to lead you to where she is. He is waiting beyond that door. Be cautious of the caves," Governor Swann had slipped back into his protective father-figure personality, "and follow wherever he tells you to."

Norrington was clearly surprised with his short encounter with Elizabeth's father. "Will you not be leaving with me, sir? Elizabeth would be glad to see you alive."

The governor smiled fondly at the mention of his daughter. "I am at peace with myself, Norrington. Unlike you, I have come to terms with all the things that I have done... Sacrificing myself to save my daughter - no matter how futile the effort – is perhaps the best thing I can ever do as a father."

Norrington suddenly remembered how he had cut the rope to save Elizabeth's life, leaving himself alone on the Dutchman... Elizabeth had affected his life in so many ways, he realized. The affection that was originally conceived on a basis of protocol eventually evolved into true love, and he had accepted that it was too late.

_Our destinies have been entwined... but never joined._

Governor Swann stood up from his chair, showing Norrington the door. "Goodbye, Norrington. If you do ever meet Elizabeth... tell her I love her." Governor Swann looked down briefly. "I don't think our last goodbye was appropriate, and my last words hardly of any comfort," he continued in a quieter voice.

A melancholic smile crossed Norrington's face. "I will."

The door opened for him.

It seemed that _his_ destiny was entwined with everyone else's. First Mr. Turner, now Governor Swann. Was he truly that alone in this world?

_Apparently so,_ he thought, as he stepped through the door and saw his guide.


	3. Chapter 3: Virgil

**Odessea**  
_(The Odyssey)_  
**  
****Chapter 3: Virgil**

"Wind and water... was it not a perfect match?"

Norrington was momentarily at a loss for words, as he quickly surveyed his new guide. Sao Feng had not changed since he died by cannon-fire; the scars and tattoo on his head still prominent in all its horrific glory. He was dressed in the finest Chinese silk, clothed in a mixture of gold and black.

"As always, _admiral_, your practicality sheds great light on my circumstances." Sao Feng said, breaking the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well then," he continued, waving a hand to gesture towards the long caves behind him, "welcome."

Norrington looked around in confusion, studying the lesser architecture of his surroundings. It was now a long tunnel, and looked very much like a cave. The air was cold and eerie, although in Norrington's dead state, he felt little affected by the chill. Sao Feng turned to walk down the long tunnel, and Norrington obligingly followed.

"I will guide you to my mistress, the wind goddess," Sao Feng continued. "She was the one who mercifully plucked me from Calypso's grasp, after my sin on her."

Norrington's ears registered nothing of this, and merely sputtered "Calypso?" in response. He never believed in the mythical legends of the sea, although after his brief run-in with Davy Jones's heart, he found himself rather open to the workings of the supernatural world. Sao Feng instantly stopped, and so did Norrington, the warnings of Governor Swann still freshly etched in his mind. Sao Feng turned to face him.

"Have you never met the sea goddess, Calypso?" Sao Feng asked.

Norrington shook his head, and Sao Feng burst into a hearty laugh. "You are the first man that I have met that has yet to see the sea goddess. She is a magnificent and beautiful being. Her face is delicate, her hair like the color of the sun. Her beauty cannot be paralleled by anything in this world."

Norrington thoughts instantly turned towards Elizabeth. _Yes, it can._

The lack of an answer provided ample explanation for Sao Feng, and he smiled knowingly at Norrington. "Ah, you were in love, I see."

"The relationship was... one sided."

"And so was mine." Sao Feng's voice was tinged with a mixture of bitterness and regret. He turned and continued down the tunnel, and Norrington dutily followed.

The air was punctuated with the sound of silence. It was an odd sound, especially for Norrington, who had not been used to the workings of the underworld yet. He had half expected to hear the screeching of bats as they sought for food, or perhaps the occasional drip of water, but he heard nothing, almost as if he had been wrought deaf. The silence unnerved Norrington; and perhaps in ensuring his ears were still with him, he attempted to make conversation.

"May I enquire as to what sin you undertook that left a goddess angered?"

Sao Feng turned his head away. "The worst kind. And I received just punishment for it. I died."

"I am sorry," Norrington's response was almost automatic, which disgusted himself. No, he was not sorry. It was right for him to have been punished if he sinned greatly. All those years being educated in the realm of the upper class seemed to have manifested in him a figure which he no longer liked.

"I am not," Sao Feng responded. "Ah, we have arrived."

Norrington found himself confronted with four passageways, blocked by four doors. Two were broken, and two intact. The doors seemed to be made of oak, and intricate designs carved into it. There were many words and incantations that Norrington could not decipher... perhaps they were seals, only to be broken by Cerberus himself. There was not a single noise except the occasional drip of water from some undetectable crevice, and the air grew warmer. Sao Feng walked down the left passage with the broken door.

"What are these?" Norrington asked, his head arching to find where the doors ended.

"Four heathen gods, four passageways. We could never tame Calypso," he noted, gesturing to the broken door on the right. "All the powers of the underworld could not seal her. She is the most powerful, and all the gods are under her control."

"And I would imagine you're leading me to the wind goddess, but the door is broken as well." Norrington observed.

Sao Feng merely smiled in response. "It was not an easy task, trying to capture the wind herself. It is said that there was a battle of wind and water of epic proportions a long time ago... and Calypso won the struggle for power. But someone snuck under the watchful eye of Calypso and freed the wind goddess. Venti has eluded her grasp ever since."

"And who might this person be?"

Sao Feng's face tightened into a scowl. "I do not speak of his name, for fear of Calypso's wrath. My mistress can only protect me to the best of her ability, but we are, ultimately, subservient to the sea goddess."

"I think our journey has been rather fruitless, then, if she has escaped." Norrington was not disappointed at this revelation; finding closure in the afterlife would have been an equally hard process.

Sao Feng's scowl quickly morphed into an ironical smile. "We can find the wind goddess. It's _catching_ her that's the problem."

* * *

The wind began to pick up as Norrington traversed through the cave. It was now transformed into a large and massive hallway, surrounded by odd paintings and books. The atmosphere was hardly homely; the walls encrusted in a layer of thick ice and dust, and the room was brightly lit by a large door right at the end of the hall. Sao Feng gestured him towards it.

"Do not stay long when you enter. Venti is just beyond that door."

Norrington tilted his head briefly in response. "Thank you," he said. Pausing for reflection, he wanted to say more than just a mention of thanks. Sao Feng and introduced him to an odd part of the underworld; a part that would have never been known to most people of the dead.

"I hope that you would find some peace, as I would imagine your unrequited love being a rather heavy burden to bear."

Sao Feng merely smiled. "As do you."

He broke into a quick run towards the light. He swiftly passed by rows and rows of paintings, not bothering to look at them, and the light grew ever closer-

A portrait of him and Elizabeth, married. She was clothed in the most lavish satin, and yet, her face twisted in anger and unhappiness.

Norrington's steps instantly slowed, and he stared at the picture. "I- did you-" he began to ask Sao Feng, but the portrait seemed to move, inconspicuously. He knew he was seeing things, but he could not tear away from this painting of what _could have been_. It did not move, and yet he saw everything.

The painting quickly disintegrated into a massive sea of chaos. It seemed as if the movements were happening in his mind. Davy Jones's heart, and Beckett's face behind the desk. Perpetrating the deaths of others just to regain a worthless title. The disintegration of himself, drinking, hankering for former glory, ruined by the hurricane. Losing the respect of everyone - Jack, Will, even his own men deserted him to serve under Mercer - by his betrayal.

The painting was not of him. It was William Turner and Elizabeth, married, their hands tightly clasped together. Elizabeth's expression was now blissful, content; happy to be with her husband. Norrington had always known his love for Elizabeth would never be reciprocated. He had come to terms with such a realization two years ago, and yet he never quite seemed to forget it. He would only wish for her happiness and nothing more.

_How odd_, he thought, reaching out to touch the painting, how much their lives had been transformed by Elizabeth. Will Turner, Governor Swann, himself, and even Jack Sparrow. Who knows, perhaps Sao Feng had met her once.

From the corner of his eye, another hand touched his, and he gasped at the figure before him.

_Elizabeth._

Even with Norrington's practicality, knowing that Elizabeth could not have possibly existed here, he could not help himself; his breath came in spurts, and within him stirred a mixture of emotions. It was no longer love that drove him, nay, it was guilt. It was pure, unadulterated sorrow, and when Elizabeth placed his hand on her cheek, the pain grew until he could stand no more.

"All I want is your forgiveness." Norrington finally whispered.

All Elizabeth did was look at him reproachfully. "You never needed it."

With her words, a great burden seemingly lifted off Norrington's back, and he gasped with the sudden lightness of foot that he felt beneath him. A calmness washed over him, cleansing himself of the guilt and sorrow he held before. His breath returned to him, and he closed his eyes, finally bathing in the serenity that he had sought ever since he perished on the _Flying Dutchman._

_"James, come with me."_

Elizabeth's voice echoed through the recesses of his mind, and for a moment he felt as if he was on the _Flying Dutchman_ again, during that pivotal moment where he sacrificed his life for hers. He knew not if it was just a figment of his imagination, but he knew what to do.

Opening his eyes, he saw the illusion of Elizabeth standing by the door, her hair made golden by sunlight. She smiled briefly, and she stepped out of the darkness, the white light consuming her figure. Norrington exhaled; the last breath he would ever take in the world of the dead.

He moved towards the light.


End file.
